


Two Steps from Right

by allfireburns



Category: Torchwood
Genre: 5 Things, Alcohol, Aliens, Angst, Banter, Community: writerinadrawer, Drabble Sequence, Gen, Humor, POV Third Person, Team, pub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allfireburns/pseuds/allfireburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Torchwood failed to have a quiet drink at the pub, and one time they actually managed it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Steps from Right

"Have you ever noticed that whenever we try to do things as a group, it ends in disaster?"

Owen turned to shoot Suzie an exasperated look over the top of his beer. "Well, now that you've _said_ it..."

"I wouldn't say _disaster_, exactly," Jack demurred, and Suzie rolled her eyes. She'd _known_ he'd say that. Disaster was _never_ the word Jack wanted to use.

"Do I have to lay it out? Just in the past few months, even. The first time we took Ianto out for a drink, he was almost eaten."

"He's fine!" Jack protested, and Ianto smiled slightly as if to reassure her of that fact.

"The time after that, you decided a movie night was good for team bonding, remember?"

"Better than karaoke night," Owen pointed out.

Jack grimaced a little. "First time I've _actually_ heard someone yell 'fire' in a crowded theatre..."

"We do seem to have an unusually high rate of... incidents," Tosh offered.

"And that's exactly my point," Suzie said, with a quick, grateful smile to Tosh. At least _one_ of them was on her side. "At this point, don't you think team night out is just tempting fate?"

Behind her, suddenly, Suzie heard shouting. Flickering light reflected off the bar. Suzie didn't turn around. Ianto did, and said calmly, "Fire."

Jack scowled, pointing an accusing finger at Suzie. "You jinxed it."

"Fire extinguisher's in the car."

* * *

"It wasn't bad for a first day, all things considered."

Gwen eyed Jack skeptically. "Do people usually die on first days?"

"Not on mine," Ianto said, and then paused. "That's... probably not reassuring."

Tosh smiled apologetically when Gwen looked to her. "Sorry."

"Well, what about Owen?"

For a moment, no one spoke, and then Jack said slowly, "We... don't talk about Owen's first day."

Owen cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Yeah, you're gonna like this job, Gwen. On top of occasionally getting people killed, you're always on call, you don't get any holidays-"

"Except St. Swithin's Day," Jack interrupted.

Gwen frowned. "What's on St. Swithin's Day?"

"Actually, I have no idea. I just like how it sounds."

She rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. It would probably be a bad idea to encourage him. "So what did happen Owen's first day?"

"Shapechanger," Jack said, proving that they did, in fact, talk about it.

"I hate shapechangers," Owen growled.

"Nasty piece of work. Kind of like that guy over there, huh, Owen?"

Owen glanced over, studying the man Jack indicated. "Yeah, definitely an alien. Got the eyes."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"...What, you want me to do something about it?"

"Well, I'd send Gwen, but she's the rookie, and you just tried to scare her."

As Owen got to his feet with a sigh, Tosh asked, "Should we help him?"

"I'm sure he's fine."

A minute later, they heard a crash as Owen was thrown into a table, and it flipped over. Jack paused.

"Okay, maybe not."

* * *

"It just feels weird without Jack."

Gwen glanced over to Tosh with a sigh. "We're just having a drink. Something we're perfectly capable of without Jack."

"But it doesn't seem like-"

"You're going to look over and he'll be there?" Ianto asked with a grimace.

"Something like that."

"It's _just_ a drink," Gwen repeated firmly. "And we're going to have a nice, quiet evening and nothing's going to happen tonight."

Owen smirked. "What do you know? It's just like having Jack here after all."

"Did you _see_ that?" someone shouted across the pub, and horror slid across Owen's face. He groaned and rested his forehead against his hand.

"No, no, no, no, no..."

"Outside! A blowfish just drove away in a sports car!"

"_Damn_ it!"

* * *

"This isn't fair. I don't want to sit here watching _you lot_ drink when I can't."

Tosh put down her White Russian guiltily. Jack, apparently unsympathetic, grinned and answered, "Hey, I gave you one veto because you died, and you used it on karaoke."

"Why do you keep _suggesting_ karaoke?" Gwen asked.

Ianto shook his head. "He thinks the look on your face when he does is funny."

"He also thinks sneaking up on people while wearing a clown mask is funny," Tosh pointed out. "I don't think his sense of humor is justification for anything."

"I don't know why I bother with you people," Jack muttered, though still grinning.

Owen rolled his eyes, though at least as far as Jack could tell, it was a good-natured sort of eyeroll. "Sometimes we really wish you wouldn't."

A pager - or something like it - beeped at Tosh's belt. Jack sighed. "Why are you carrying that around?"

Tosh gave him a look that seemed to say she was sorry while not really meaning it at all. She glanced at the device on her belt and announced, "There's a spike in Rift energy... in the middle of the bay."

"Please tell me we're not going to have to get a boat," Owen said.

"One day," Jack murmured, pushing himself to his feet, "we really are going to just have a quiet drink."

* * *

By now, the pub staff _knows_ Torchwood, and Jack didn't miss the fact that the barman keeps eying them like their mere presence might cause something to spontaneously burst into flames. The barman doesn't seem to have noticed that there's just the three of them, that they're missing two of the team. Maybe he has and just hasn't thought to question it.

Maybe their dark, distant expressions are enough to discourage questions.

Ianto and Gwen barely touch their drinks, and Jack doesn't have one at all. They stare at them, occasionally shift them around on the table, leaving rings and streaks of condensation behind. They glance awkwardly at each other, glance away before making eye contact. They try not to look at the empty seats at the table.

Nothing untoward happens all night long. Except for two things, it's everything Jack could have wished of a quiet night at the pub.


End file.
